Spinning
by Oasis Blackmore
Summary: It all comes down to what we really want in life. Oneshot. Disregards AWE.


**A/N: I can't imagine that this fic will be any good, considering it's my first from this category and such, but perhaps you might like it. I dunno. It's rated M for some sexuality, I suppose, but I'm not sure what really qualifies that rating, so yea . . . Enjoy.**

**Spinning**

"I pronounce ye married," Captain Jack Sparrow pronounced, looking the former Elizabeth Swann in the eye and catching the uncertainty dwelling in its depths before she hurriedly broke contact. "You may now kiss your bonny lass," he added with a flourish of his ringed hand. Will Turner did just as instructed, pulling his wife into his strong arms and closing his mouth over hers.

The crew behind them cheered, and Ragetti and Pintel sobbed on one another's shoulders. "Weddings always put tears in me eye," the former declared.

Jack watched the bride and bridegroom awkwardly. After the crew and Captain Barbosa had rescued him from death, it had been decreed that Miss Swann and her betrothed Mr. Turner could not go back to Port Royal; though Jack's debt with Davy Jones had been settled, the conflict pertaining to Lord Beckett had not been resolved quite so effectively-or at all, for that matter. They had made a quick stop just outside of Tortuga, where Will and Elizabeth had rowed into port in the long boat, to send a letter to Governor Swann, informing him of his daughter's whereabouts (or who she would be with) and safety. From there, they had sailed out to the middle of the sea, as far away from any potential cohorts of Beckett as possible.

These circumstances brought the crew to the deck of the _Black Pearl_ to view the informal wedding. Mr. Gibbs had given Miss Swann away, and the rest of the pirates had served as an audience. They all christened the newlyweds with rum and salted pork before heading back to their stations.

Jack lingered a bit longer, flipping open his compass, still concerned that it spun in haphazard circles when he attempted to espy his greatest want and would probably continue to do so until another chivalrous opportunity, like his return to the _Pearl_ during the attack of the Kraken, reared itself. Today, however, it stopped resolutely on the very individual he had just declared to be Mrs. Turner. Shaking the obviously broken instrument as his brows furrowed, he let it spin and watched as it halted again on the young woman, who was singing upbeat pirate songs and twirling about with her new husband.

Wholly puzzled by this turn of events but always drawn to the female sex, he let his eyes travel her body, lingering on the black bodice that enhanced her cleavage and provided great, pirate-like contrast to the puritanical white dress she wore in honor of her big day.

Elizabeth glanced in Captain Sparrow's direction, accidentally spotting the path in which his gaze was wandering and feeling a blush creep over her skin. Pressing herself closer to Will, she told herself that Jack had no effect on her whatsoever and that she was the happiest bride in the world; this story wasn't the most convincing of the lies she had told herself in the past, and she was well aware of the captain's disconcerted aura as he staggered up to the wheel.

Jack put Mr. Gibbs, whose true want was that of treasure, in charge of determining a heading for their journey, which he did quickly and happily, sending them in the direction of an abandoned island that was rumored to be the keeper of great wealth.

Captain Sparrow, intent on keeping his thoughts distracted, took the wheel and squinted at the crimson horizon; nightfall was nearly upon them, meaning that Will would soon lead Elizabeth to the cabin below deck to take her. Disquieted by the wayward turn of his thoughts, Jack shook his head. Grudgingly, he pulled the compass from inside his jacket and looked at it again, raising a suspicious eyebrow as he looked in the direction it pointed and viewed Elizabeth helping Will raise the sails for the evening. Perhaps the compass _was_ broken, but then why was Gibbs able to get a heading? And why did it continue to point at Elizabeth, no matter where she stood?

Shrugging and situating his hat, Jack opted instead to focus on something slightly more gratifying than a married woman's assets. Rum.

---

The moon rose above the undulating waters below the _Pearl_, illuminating the swabbed deck and giving the pair standing on it a ghostly look.

Elizabeth closed her eyes as Will rested his head on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. This was something she could not avoid; Will would want her, emotionally as well as carnally, and this was what _she_ wanted, too, right?

_Of course, this is what I want! Will Turner is the man I love._ She turned around in his embrace and pressed her lips to his. She had to prove this to herself. "I'm ready, Will," she whispered to him, hands against his chest. She met his searching, cautious eyes with a reluctant but confident smile. _Any bride would be nervous_ she assured herself.

Decisively, he drew her closer, kissing her soundly. As he led her to the cabin, which was adjacent to the captain's quarters and had only recently been emptied of the rum supply to make room for the couple's matrimonial night together, he never once let go of her, as if worried she might change her mind.

He gently laid her down on the rickety but suitable bed, kissing her lips with all the tenderness of a man truly in love, but Elizabeth did not want tender. She deepened the kiss, desperately clenching the cloth of his shirt in her fists. She wanted passion, excitement, _fire_; she wanted to be set free. _"You long for freedom."_ Her heart skipped a beat upon Jack's voice ringing in her ears, and she was grateful that Will's hands fervently roaming her body proffered the required distraction.

The bodice proved tasking on the patience of both parties, and they spent a good ten minutes attempting to release Elizabeth from its intricately woven ties. As she finally burst from the cloth shell, Will was taken aback by her eagerness to continue, but she needed him to keep going, for fear she would decide that he was not really the man for her.

He lifted her skirt slowly, and she stared at him impatiently, exasperation causing her to finish the act for him. It was then that bashfulness hit her, and she froze. His eyes drifted up to meet hers, and he smiled reassuringly. "Utterly beautiful," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her. Will had always been a sweet, caring, brave man, and she knew he would take her placidly and softly. She did not let the tears materialize until he had looked away, but then, they came hurriedly, blurring her vision as she reached forward to undo his belt. Perhaps she had made a huge mistake, marrying him, but she could not go back on it now.

When he eased her legs apart, he gave her all the time in the world to reconsider, to cry out that she no longer loved him, no longer longed for him. Lord knew she would have, but this was not something she could admit to herself. She _refused_ to admit it to herself.

Will, of course, attributed her tears to the pain of losing one's virginity, and she was thankful. The kisses he gave her to ease the agony did no such thing, but she accepted that he knew nothing but love for her, as she once had for him. She felt no burning need to continue after Will had had his fill of her. He rolled over, panting and pressing another kiss to her temple. She rested her head against his damp chest, wishing that she could confirm that this had been the right thing to do.

---

The newlyweds had entered their bedchamber near an hour ago, and Jack, though he would not acknowledge it, had drunken himself to sickness because of it. He tottered around on the deck, having earlier relinquished the wheel to Marty and Gibbs (after something just short of a brawl), swinging his bottle and wailing "A Pirate's Life for Me" at the grinning moon.

"We rescued 'im so 'e could drink 'imself to death," Mr. Gibbs muttered to Marty conspiratorially.

Marty laughed. "Well, it's better than being eaten alive by the Kraken," he acknowledged.

"MAN OVERBOARD!" Jack called before diving over the side of the slow-moving ship.

As he hit the water, the sheer chill of it jolted him into sobriety, and he let his movements become fluid as he tread water.

Marty hurried to see if Jack was seriously injured, but the latter had left his coat, boots, hat, and sword on the deck, giving him ample swimming ability. "All clear!" he called up to Gibbs, who nodded in understanding; this was not the first time Jack had taken a nighttime swim.

---

Elizabeth found that a well-satisfied man went to sleep as a quickly as a child, and she easily slipped out of Will's arms and moved to the heavy trunk across the room, which stored the feminine clothing she might need; Jack had made her promise to wear revealing dresses more often than not if she was going to play pirate on his ship. At this memory, a smile graced her lips as she reached for a white nightgown and a red ribbon; the former she slipped on after shedding her wedding dress; the latter she used to tie the plait, into which she quickly did her slightly sun-bleached hair.

Padding out of the room on bare feet, she closed the door and glanced warily around her before turning and entering Captain Jack's quarters. _"You long to do what you want to do because you want it, to act on selfish impulse."_ She pivoted in shock, blinking when she realized that Jack's voice, again, was only playing in her head.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she continued to "act on selfish impulse," inhaling the scent that permeated the room, the smell of Jack. She moved around the tables and chairs he had set up for mapping purposes and made her way to his bed. She sat down on it, wondering what it would be like to have passionate, exciting, fiery Jack there with her, kissing her senseless, breaking the rules she had put down when she had married Will, setting her free. With him, she felt like a pirate: reckless, forceful, illicit; and she loved it, possibly more than she could fathom.

Nevertheless, there was guilt there, with the power he gave her. She knew Will loved her and wanted to cause him no pain, but he was too . . . reserved. It was true that, repeatedly, he had associated himself with pirates just to save her from certain doom, but perhaps she wanted unruliness of that sort all the time.

It occurred to her as she sat there, breathing in the essence of Jack and unpersuasively telling herself that she should leave his room as quickly as possible, that Jack had been absolutely right about her, about everything. Jack, the one man she had detested from the start but learned to appreciate as their relationship grew, knew her more candidly than anyone else.

"Er . . ." Elizabeth's head snapped up at the sound of Jack's voice. There he was, standing in his doorway in all his manly glory, the absence of his shirt showing the ripples of his stomach muscles, which glistened with moisture; had he gone for a swim? "Couldn't sleep?" he asked jestingly, his contented look telling her that the direction of her eyes had not gone unnoticed.

Elizabeth forced herself to meet his eyes. "I just . . ." She was certain her guilty look told all, but she intended to lie her head off anyway. "Will wanted me to get something from here. I-" Recalling that she was still sitting on his bed, she quickly rose to her feet. "I was waiting for you because I have absolutely no idea where you keep it." Anticipating his next comment, she offered, "I didn't want the crew members to see me in-well-this."

"Right." Jack tossed his shirt, which appeared to be soaked, onto a chair nearby with shrug, swaggering to the table in the center of the room as he unbuckled his belt. "So, what did he want?"

"What?" Elizabeth managed to intone, distracted by the arch of Jack's belt flying across the room to join his shirt.

Jack looked at her perceptively. "Will. He sent you here," he prompted.

Elizabeth shook her head, looking anywhere but at his exposed torso. "Oh, right. He wanted . . . your compass."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "My compass? Doesn't he have what he wants?" He looked into Elizabeth's eyes meaningfully before giving the same look to every other part of her body.

Again, prickles of discomfiture ignited every inch of her. "I would assume so, Mr. Sparrow, but he wanted make sure." Formality made everything seem a bit less gauche.

"Mmm . . . of course." Jack nodded, swaggering toward her provocatively. "And he told you to steal the compass from my room?"

Elizabeth watched him cagily. "I . . . yes." She could not recall ever having been quite so flustered by anyone in her entire life.

"Funny." Jack overdramatically rubbed his chin. "He knows for a fact that I keep my compass on my person at all times."

"Perhaps he had a bit much to drink," Elizabeth offered, driving standoffishness into her tone as Jack neared.

"Well, you'll have to _persuade_ me to give it to you nonetheless," he proclaimed, playing off their former flirtation as he grazed her jaw with his rough finger.

"My, you're persistent," Elizabeth noted, crossing her arms over her stomach unaffectedly.

"Pray tell, if you were so against the crew seeing you in-" He gestured at her attire vaguely. "_that_, why is it you wore it to _my_ cabin?"

"Why is it you're asking?" Elizabeth countered, sidestepping his hand as he reached to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

"Because, love, I find it much more appealing here than I would have on deck," he growled, one step bringing him just inches from her and cornering her between the bed and the wall.

"Then I believe that's persuasion enough," Elizabeth breathed, lips dangerously close to Jack's. "for you to hand over the compass."

"Not quite," Jack rasped, cradling her face with his hands.

Elizabeth forced her body to rigidity, though she was on fire inside. As he leaned toward her, she reached deftly into his coat pocket, extracting the desired item and allowing his lips to barely brush hers before she turned her head and pushed him away.

"Thief!" Jack exclaimed, though he sounded almost proud as he stared at the compass in her hands.

"Pirate," she bit back, flashing her teeth at him.

A mischievous look blazed in Jack's eyes as he moved near her again, this time pinning her against the wall. "Let's see what it is _you_ want, _Lizzy_," he provoked, pulling the compass from her paralyzed fingers with ease and opening it. He suppressed a wince as it yet again pointed directly at Mrs. Turner. Holding it between them, he grabbed her hand and placed it on the compass.

The small arrow was obviously confused beyond all reason, and it began spinning, never pausing to try to find a heading, just spinning.

Jack pulled his hand away and caught sight of the arrow stopping, pointing directly at him before Elizabeth snapped the small square shut. "This is ridiculous," she admonished, brushing past him huffily, though there was a twinge of embarrassment in her voice.

Jack halted her by grabbing her wrist and turned her to face him. "Is it now, love?" he inquired, sounding almost offended.

"Yes," Elizabeth hissed, glaring at him. "I'm _married_."

"You still can't resist me," Jack assured her.

"I can," Elizabeth responded defiantly.

"Can not." He placed his hand on the small of her back, giving her sufficient room to run away, but she made no such move. "See?"

"I'm married to Will Turner," she repeated, though she was not quite so confident about her words now.

"But Mrs. Elizabeth Sparrow sounds so much more presentable," Jack put forward, bringing his other arm around her waist.

"Captain Sparrow, I do believe you've proposed to me twice now," Elizabeth told him, grinning in satisfaction.

"_I_ believe you like it."

"I believe _you're_ insane."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting a dashingly insane pirate, you know."

"There is if you're married."

"And yet that remains your only excuse," Jack pondered, and, unable to hold back any longer, he crushed her against his bare chest, lips covering hers.

Instead of pulling away as she should have, Elizabeth arched against him, hands holding his face in place as he kissed her. The heat emanating between them seemed likely to set the wooden ship afire.

This was what Elizabeth wanted.

This was what Jack wanted.

Who knew if what they were doing was right or wrong, moral or immoral, pure or impure? Who cared?

They were spinning.

**A/N: _"You long for freedom."_ and _"You long to do what you want to do because you want it, to act on selfish impulse."_ are both taken directly from Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest, which, I might add, is one of those sequels that is almost as good as the prequel. Woo hoo! Review if you like.**


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